The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 299

McNeil had all the trappings of old money—a privileged, aristocratic air beneath the polished veneer of a trust fund heir. The first time Victoria laid eyes on him, she was utterly captivated.

"Go upstairs and change. We're having dinner at Granddad's tonight. If he sees you dressed like this, he won't be pleased."

Victoria smirked inwardly.

So much for the "just the three of us going out to dinner" he'd promised. Turned

out, they were heading back to the old family estate to see the patriarch.

No wonder McNeil hadn't cut her loose yet-she was still useful to him.

"Alright."

She didn't argue, just made her way to the room she hadn't set foot in for ages. The moment she habitually flung open the closet doors, Victoria was stunned.

Her clothes-all of them were neatly arranged inside. Same sizes, same styles, nothing missing, not even a single piece of lingerie. It was as if she'd never left at all.

But she vividly remembered packing every last item when she walked out the door.

Back then, McNeil's things were the only ones left behind.

Now, both their clothes had found their way back to their places, side by side.

pulled out a dress that fit her perfectly. Except for the faint scent

herself in the mirror. The woman staring back was the same one who, for six years, had devoted

in her eyes-a glint that hadn't been there

the nightstand, where she spotted a

She walked over.

completely after half an hour. Gwyneth must have left it here the last time she was playing in the room. Victoria pocketed the

the floor-to-ceiling windows, lost in thought, cigarette smoldering between his lips and one

pulled him from his reverie. He turned just as she began

swept up, with just a few delicate strands framing her face. Pearl earrings adorned her ears, catching the light, while her bright eyes seemed to sparkle with a thousand

dress, the soft fabric tracing every curve and rippling

woman of depth and allure. Yet time had left no trace of weariness

even more stunning than she'd been years ago, her

his lips before

on his hand, and

carpet with his shoe. "We'll need a new

the final stair. Victoria hesitated for a moment, but

in the old chapel. McNeil had taken her hand just like this, guiding her toward the priest, where they'd vowed-under the watchful eyes

Langford, you

gentle squeeze, he pulled her

enough distance between them. "I've always dressed like this. Perhaps Mr. Langford simply never noticed?" Every